The “Vicious Cycles” Created by Solitary Confinement

February 24, 2013 By 1 Comment

Intensive Management Unit in Washington State Correctional Center

In 1993, Dr. Stuart Grassian, following extensive interviews with men in California’s Pelican Bay State Prison Security Housing Unit (SHU), reported that extensive periods in solitary confinement lead to what he referred to as a “syndrome” particular to prison isolation units. Anxiety, ruminations, panic attacks, aggression, paranoia, and psychotic symptoms were observed as a consequence of prolonged solitary confinement. Prisoners already presenting problems with impulsivity, aggression, and other problematic mental health and behavioral problems may become far more aggravated in solitary confinement. This contributes to what Dr. Craig Haney has referred to as a vicious cycle in which emotionally troubled individuals placed in solitary become more aggravated and cause more problems, leading to longer or repeated terms in solitary confinement, and thus creates more negative behaviors in the process.

Unsurprisngly, it has also been well-established that inmates in solitary confinement have higher recidivism rates upon release from incarceration. An August 2012 report commissioned by the American Friends Service Committee found that prisoners released from Arizona supermax custody are emotionally and mentally harmed by the experience of solitary. Further, the report found that supermax inmates are  inadequately prepared for release, as they are prohibited from educational and vocational opportunities and are limited in visitation during their incarceration, which contribute to inmates being “deeply traumatized and essentially socially disabled.”

Presented here are profiles of two prisoners, in Washington and Utah, who have written to Solitary Watch about their experiences in isolation.  Both report extended periods in solitary confinement, which they report has had the effect of increasing their hostility against authority and leading to increased feelings of anxiety, respectively. They report receiving no constructive, rehabilitative programming, which they argue only contributes to escalating problems as they neither learn to “become productive” and are left at “rock bottom.”

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Filed Under: psychological effects, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, Utah, Washington Tagged With: , , , , ,

Utah Supermax Prisoners Report Being “Treated Like an Animal”

February 15, 2013 By 2 Comments

uinta1cellPrisoners at Utah State Prison, Draper’s supermax Uinta One facility have reported numerous abuses to Solitary Watch. The Uinta One facility has a design capacity of 96, and is divided into eight sections with twelve cells each, with approximately 90 prisoners currently held in solitary confinement for reasons varying from short-term disciplinary action to protective custody.

Prisoners in Uinta One may receive only 3 hours a week of time out of their cell to shower or exercise alone in a concrete yard. The cells are small, and some are fitted with cameras. The windows on the cell doors are covered by a steel flap that guards routinely peer through. Sand bags line the doors to prevent “fishing,” or communications being passed from cell to cell, and cell flooding.

Reports prisoner Brandon Green, who has spent five years in Uinta One, “Bugs get trapped under these and set up little colonies and infiltrate our cells. Most of these toilets do not flush correctly and most cell toilets stink with green moss inside the bowls. Most air vents are clogged and one can taste the city exhaust smoke as one chews ones carrots.”

One prisoner has called Uinta One a “place of pain and terror,” while another has commented “no wonder there are so many suicides.”

Individuals in Uinta One have written Solitary Watch about the frequent use of strip cells as a disciplinary measure and response to suicidal ideation. A strip cell is a cell without anything beyond a concrete bedding area, toilet, and sink. Prisoners in these conditions wear a smock, a tear-resistant gown. (Solitary Watch has previously reported on the use of strip cells at Utah State Prison.)

L., who spent 33 months in Uinta One in total as of October 2012, told Solitary Watch that  “if someone is gonna kill themselves they take them and out to a strip cell and you sleep on the hard floor and treated like a dog.” A., in protective custody for one year following his decision to leave  gang life, reported that “if I lose control because of something I have no control over, they’ll punish me and put me on strip cell for three days…when a mentally ill inmate feels suicidal, they send us to the infirmary to be on suicide watch…then we get from suicide watch back to Uinta 1 and the staff put us back in the strip cell when we get back to Uinta 1.”

Mental health treatment is reportedly abysmal. “Only medication. And nothing else. It’s all about money with these people. They charge you money only to see a mental health worker for one or two minutes and they’ll walk away and do nothing for you,” reports A.

A. has further written that the use of strip cell is “for punishment purposes. Otherwise, why would they put someone on strip cell? For simply calling the officers names or an inmate who can’t emotionally deal with this place goes on strip cell. When some of us feel suicidal, the officers say ‘Please don’t do anything on my shift. Wait until I leave and you can do whatever you want.’ Their policy states that they must carry themselves in a professional manner, but it’s ok for them to go against policy, but if we do that it’s hell to pay and strip cell to see.”

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Filed Under: mental illness, psychological effects, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, Utah Tagged With: , , , ,

Brandon Green, Chronicler of Solitary Confinement

January 11, 2013 By 8 Comments

Utah State Correctional FacilitySince first appearing in an October 16th, 2010 Voices from Solitary post, Utah State Prison, Draper, prisoner Brandon Green has been a consistent and prolific chronicler of “the vortex” that is the supermax Uinta One facility. Over 90 inmates are held in solitary confinement in the facility, where inmates are held in 8×6 cells for up to 24 hours a day. Inmates may be placed in the facility for protection (voluntary and involuntary) or as punishment for rules violations. Most are not allowed phone calls or visitations, and reading materials are restricted. The facility has been described as “a place of pain and terror,” with one inmate commenting ”no wonder there are  so many suicides.”

Brandon Green, 30, born and raised in Utah, has been in and out of prisons, and solitary confinement, for a decade. In 2003, he was arrested for driving a stolen truck. In an essay published on a blog operated by a supporter, he writes of his entrance into the world of solitary confinement: “115 Lbs, sick and coming off a two year crack addiction, you had to fight to stay unmolested and alive. The prison sends you to solitary confinement for fighting.”

For eleven months he served time in prison, much of which was in solitary confinement. His time in isolation would have a profoundly negative effect on him. Writing, ”While in solitary you developed these fears, this hate, this ‘animal-like’ emotion. You learned about needles from a neighbor and psychotropic medications from another neighbor. You start to shoot cocaine and methamphetamine at home. Your mom starts you on medication.  You drive 400 miles, up and back, to Las Vegas every two days to keep your dope supply up and the money supply up by selling.”

Being rearrested, he was incarcerated for 18 months, much of which was in solitary. Sent to a half-way house upon release, due to “the stress after all that solitary” he was rearrested and served two additional months before being released. In 2006, he was turned in by his mother following a resumption of involvement in criminal activity, and was arrested while driving back to Utah from Las Vegas. Upon being arrested, and not wanting ‘to come back to solitary, ” he slipped his handcuffs and reached for the shotgun in the vehicle, prompting a swift response by officers. While in jail he pulled sprinklers to flood his cell, engaged in self-harm, and threw feces. He was forcibly medicated for a month while in a strip cell following a suicide attempt.

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Filed Under: Eighth Amendment, lawsuits/litigation, mental illness, politics of punishment, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, torture, Utah, Voices from Solitary Tagged With: , , , , ,

Voices from Solitary: “No Wonder There Are So Many Suicides”

December 17, 2012 By 2 Comments

The following comes from a prisoner currently housed in maximum security housing at Utah State Prison, Draper. He has spent, by his estimate, seven years in either supermaximum or maximum security housing. He recently had a heart attack in maximum security and reportedly has received minimal health care treatment while incarcerated. He describes here the  Uinta 1 facility, where over 90 inmates are held in long-term isolation. –Sal Rodriguez

I spent the first two years of my incarceration in general population at a county jail. I had my first heart attack while at the county jail due to misdiagnosed Type 1 Diabetes. Despite my repeated attempts to get medical help, the officials repeatedly denied that there was anything wrong with me even though I exhibited all of the symptoms and signs of diabetes. Eventually, the misdiagnosed diabetes led to the heart attack.

I spent nine days in Intensive Care at the University Medical Center before being released back to prison where I was promptly placed in supermax–Uinta 1. I had not committed any violations to be placed in supermax other than having a heart attack.

I wasn’t considered a protective custody case, as I had just spent two years in general population. No reason was given for my being housed in supermax. I spent only a few months in supermax before being shipped out to another prison out of state. Once back in Utah I was once again placed in supermax without due process or reason, and I spent the next 20 months locked down. I have spent about seven years or more now housed in either supermax or max. I have never had any write-ups or violations to warrant me being housed in maximum security.

I can tell you that life in supermax (Uinta 1) is inhumane. There are inmates still being housed in that unit who have been there for eight years or more, who started off completely sane but now have lost all sanity. Suicide was common in the Uinta’s just a few years ago, forcing the prison to take preventative measures by installing new vent-housings that wouldn’t allow a rope to be tied to it for hanging. There is still many suicides that occur there, although its not like it used to be years ago.

The abuses still continue today with some of the torture techniques used in foreign interrogation. Cells are kept cold, lights are kept on 24/7, guards purposely make noise at all hours to prevent sleep.

Windows are covered by a small door that is only opened when the guard occasionally  looks in, as for count. Mental health care is a joke, as the mental health worker goes cell to cell not spending more than five seconds at each door and only asks “Are you ok?” It’s no wonder there are so many suicides. Mental health shows a lack of concern for those in supermax. It’s the general attitude there.

Filed Under: suicide, supermax prisons, Utah, Voices from Solitary

Mentally Ill Utah Prisoner Sentenced to 20 Days in Solitary for Not Moving Cup Fast Enough

December 13, 2012 By 6 Comments

Utah State Prison in Draper, Utah currently holds over 91 prisoners in solitary confinement in the Uinta One facility. Prisoners have described the facility as “a place of pain and terror” and a place where inmates “expect tragedy.”

While Utah Department of Corrections admits that the facility on occasion houses prisoners diagnosed as “mentally ill”, they point to the existence of the prisons Olympus Mental Health Forensic Facility.

According to the Utah Department of Corrections website:

Prisons and jails have become primary mental health care providers for mentally ill offenders in the criminal justice system. The mental health services provided by the Utah Department of Corrections is comprehensive and wide-ranging in its scope. Our mission is to provide comprehensive and cost-effective mental health treatment to those offenders who suffer from a serious mental illness.

The Clinical Services Bureau manages a 155-bed stand-alone housing unit for offenders with the most severe mental illnesses. This facility is designated to provide a therapeutic environment that promotes appropriate stabilization and behavioral change.

Solitary Watch has been in contact with an individual in the Olympus facility.  In his late 50s, he has been routinely transferred between Uinta One and Olympus for a decade. His medical documents indicate diagnoses for “Paranoid States (Delusional Disorders)…Other and Unspecified Protein-Calorie Malnutrition…Self-inflicted Injury By Cutting and Piercing Instrument” and other health issues. He reports constant harassment by the guards, who he says, among other things, falsely accused him of rules violations. In support of this, he provided documentation indicating that he was accused of a charge of “Abuse/Misuse Medications” based on “Some Evidence.” He was ultimately found not guilty of the charge, despite not participating in the Disciplinary Hearing.

“When people do wicked things to you and you complain, that isn’t paranoia, it’s circumstance driven. When you refuse to trust those whose conduct does not improve, that’s not paranoia. It’s recognition of active unremitting threat,” the prisoner writes. He reports having been placed in a wheelchair and being “upended onto my face” when the guard pushing the wheelchair “made a typical fast hard turn.” After the incident, he received “No apology from anyone whatsoever…I was told to wait until a nurse came to check on me…back in this cage I sat unmoving. I couldn’t get off the chair and on the ‘bed’…My ears are ringing incessantly…I can’t sleep more than two-hours…My eyes aren’t properly focusing,” he reports.

A month before this, he was found guilty of “Refuse Order” (see image), because he did not “fully and imediatly[sic] comply” with an order to remove an “empty cup and hand from the cuff slider.” When chastised for his behavior, according to the report, he was “disrepectful” to the staff. For this, he was ordered to 20 days in “Punitive Isolation” and assessed a $150 fine.

When asked to provide the policies that guide such punitive measures, Department Spokesman Stephen Gehrke was unaware that such policies are in writing. “I’m not aware whether there is some sort of document or guideline that lists offenses and punishments or repercussions on a case-by-case basis. I believe the response to each incident is specific to the individual details of each circumstance and takes into account aggravating or mitigating factors, which is why the prison employs hearing officers to listen to the offender’s account, review documents, and take into account all other forms of information,” he wrote via email.

“‘This is prison medicine–we don’t care and we don’t have to!’,” the prisoner in Olympus characterizes the approach of the prisons medical officials.

This kind of treatment of people in prison is all too common in the United States. A 2003 Human Rights Watch report estimated that one-third to one-half of individuals in American isolation units were diagnosed with a mental health problem. As of September 2011, one-third of Virginia’s Red Onion State Prison supermax population had a mental health diagnosis. The individual in Olympus is among many in isolation units who attempt suicide while in solitary confinement.  In 2006, it was noted that in California and Texas, suicides in prison disproportionately occurred in solitary confinement units.

Click here to read more of Solitary Watch’s reporting on Utah’s use of solitary confinement.

Filed Under: mental illness, older prisoners, prison health care, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, Utah Tagged With: , , ,

“I Write, Read, Cry, Sleep and Beg for Death”: Life In Utah’s Supermax

October 25, 2012 By 2 Comments

“I write, read, cry, sleep and beg for death.”

That is how fifty-six-year-old inmate J.,  in Utah State Prison, Draper’s Uinta 1 facility describes life in Utah’s isolation units, which houses the state’s death row prisoners in addition to inmates placed there for disciplinary issues.

J. has spent six years in Uinta 1, a place he calls a “place of pain and terror.” Describing his “very ugly” cell as twelve by six feet, he says that with the  protrusions by the “joke bed—concrete slab” and toilet,  he can’t walk. There is “no prospect for either repair nor suitable sanitation.”

J. writes that his biggest struggle in Uinta 1 is the “daily, round the clock victimization.” His experience, a “physical, mental, emotional and spiritual horror.” J. is described by a fellow inmate in Uinta 1 as a “very religious” man, who is “able to sing almost any oldie song beautifully.”

According to one inmate, correctional guards once taunted J., calling him a “worthless piece of shit demon.”

J., an Air Force veteran who dedicated himself to Mormonism following a 1977 suicide attempt, has been in Uinta 1 for over 5 years. “I’ve had no clothing to wear since they stole my sweat pants bottoms in 2005,” he says.

He refuses to file grievances, he says, “because Chapter 13 of Deuteronomy precludes even the suggestion. Because I maintain my honor I am made a unique target. ‘Do what you want to him. He can’t file grievances!’ They laugh, and laugh, and laugh.”

J. has attempted suicide while in Uinta 1, and has been repeatedly moved back and forth between Uinta 1 and the prison’s mental health unit, called Olympus.  His refusal to obey orders from the guards and his psychological state, keeps him perpetually isolated. Sentenced to a term of three years to life in prison on a “conspiracy to commit rape” charge for marrying his teenage daughter to an adult man, he believes that he will spend the rest of his life in prison. And for him, that likely means a lifetime in solitary confinement.

Uinta 1 is divided into 8 sections, each with 12 cells. As of this writing, there are 90 inmates in isolation. The unit is always at or near it’s 96-inmate capacity. According to the Department of Corrections, “the period of time any one inmate remains on admin segregation or disciplinary segregation varies drastically based on their individual case.”

The Corrections spokesman went on to state that “the minimum an offender would have the opportunity to come out of his cell is approximately 3 hours per week.”

In addition, “those housed on admin segregation and disciplinary segregation are seen periodically by housing and security officials as well as their caseworker for a discussion about their current status and to determine whether that classification needs to continue or can be lifted based on their progress.”

A Government Records Access and Management Act information request yielded a letter claiming that the Utah DOC does not maintain records pertaining to how many inmates are classified as segregated, nor anything pertaining to costs.

At Uinta 1, however, the reports from inmates are consistently bleak.

Inmate S. has spent over seven years in isolation, and has written that “like dogs in a kennel we are isolated and kept in individual cells twenty-four hours a day, fed half-rotten food and subject to every kind of psychological, social, verbal dehumanization known to man.”

S. has been held in isolation for his protection due to his status as a sex offender. However, he believes that his time in Uinta 1 amounts to torture. “When you are subject to dehumanization of any kind it is a form of torture. Torture is a criminal activity. It doesn’t matter whether the victim is a convict, civilian or cop. Torture is unacceptable. If you felt that my crime was irredeemable, society, you should’ve just executed me. Keeping me in here like this, you might as well have.”

Among the other Uinta 1 inmates is 76-year old D., who has been in Uinta 1 since 2001 following a disciplinary write-up. He reports he spends his time in his 6×12 cell working out “every other day in the hope that I may be able to live until 2060, at which time the U.S. is supposed to have a new plane that makes no noise and can fly real low to the ground and is shaped like a cigar, with no wings.”

D. has been reported by another inmate to throw things around his cell and groan; he is often frustrated by body cramps.

In correspondences with Solitary Watch, he would meticulously copy the indexes of books and count every line he had written something on.

The conditions of Utah’s Uinta 1 facility have received little attention over the years. Recently, the Salt Lake City magazine City Weekly featured a Cover Story on the isolation of inmates with mental health issues in Uinta 1. As happened with Solitary Watch’s official records requests, the Utah DOC claimed not to have access to information regarding the prevalence of mental health issues in Uinta 1.

Solitary Watch will continue to report on the situation in Uinta 1.

Filed Under: mental illness, older prisoners, psychological effects, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, torture, Utah Tagged With: , , , ,

“Waiting For The World To Give Us A Reason To Live”: Solitary Confinement in Utah

October 24, 2012 By 4 Comments

Utah State Prison’s Uinta 1 facility serves as the prison’s super-maximum security unit, where inmates are held in solitary confinement. Inmates in Uinta 1 may be there for disciplinary infractions, notoriety reasons, protective custody, or because they are security/escape risks. The unit is divided into eight sections with twelve inmates in each section, for a total of 96 maximum inmates. Currently, there are 90 inmates in Uinta 1. The Utah Department of Corrections, in response to a government records request by Solitary Watch, claims it has no records regarding its use of segregation.

Several inmates have recently written Solitary Watch about the conditions in Uinta 1.

L., who has been in Uinta 1 for five months and previously served 28 months there, reports that he is only able to leave his cell three days a week, for a shower and 1 hour alone in a concrete yard. He reports that, in being transported to a 15 minute shower, “we have to wear a spit mask over our faces and handcuffed from behind with a dog leash hooked to us.”

“The rest of the time except on the shower days we are locked down in our cells with the door window closed so you can’t see out,” he writes.

A., who has been in Uinta 1 for a year, adds that, “just the other day, the [Correctional Officers] came and shook our cells down and took away all of our hygiene. They took away shampoo, lotion, conditioner, everything…they also don’t give us anything to clean our cells with.”

A. is in Uinta 1 for his own protection, following what he says was a decision to leave gang life after much “self-study.” Despite this, he says, he is treated as if he committed a  serious offense.

Inmate Brandon Green, who has frequently written on the conditions of Uinta 1, describes the environment in Uinta 1 as reinforcing a vicious cycle in which inmates placed in solitary usually end up back not long after they are released. Green, who has been in Uinta 1 for five years, previously served 18 months in Uinta 1 before a brief period on parole before returning to Utah State Prison. He has been held in Uinta 1 following an escape attempt and refusal to take psychiatric drugs, which he says will only harm his health.

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Filed Under: mental illness, psychological effects, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, Utah Tagged With: , , , ,

Voices from Solitary: “A Sort of Solitary Psychosis”

July 22, 2012 By 7 Comments

The following comes from an inmate at Utah State Prison, Draper’s Uinta 1 facility. Uinta 1 serves as Utah’s death row, long-term supermax, as well as the Draper institution’s disciplinary segregation unit. The writer wrote over a period of days detailing a particularly violent few days in his unit requiring multiple cell extractions following several inmates covering their windows and flooding their cells. –Sal Rodriguez

Saturday

3:00 PM

It’s around 3:00 PM Saturday here. Last night my neighbor flooded his cell by flushing his toilet a lot with socks in toilet so it flooded the whole section, except my cell (I plugged it off with plastic and towel). Then another neighbor slipped in his cell on water, hit head on sink, had seizure, and was extracted, then returned to cell. I notice that a lot of these guys have seizures. I don’t think this is a faked issue. You can tell a true seizure by just listening to their head bounce off the cement floor.

8:30 PM

Cells 1, 2, 3, 4 have all proceeded tonight (8:30PM–it’s almost 10:30pm) to pull all their sprinklers, cover all their windows, and flood cells by running sink and flushing toilets repeatedly. The damn sprinklers emitted no water for some reason. This means if there was truly a fire the captive would burn to death. They are going to fight the SWAT teams. So pepper spray/blood/maybe death is on the roster tonight. Water’s barely seeping into my “house” but it’s plugged off pretty good. I don’t mean to sound like a sportscaster. This shit’s not cool one bit. People die fucking around doing this shit.

A sort of solitary psychosis, no person can stop these guys.

Guess they are now shitting and pissing into the water. We now wait for SWAT. Pretty soon they’ll become hip to the skip and shut off the water. I’m going to fill juice bags with water to drink! Almost forgot.

10:35 PM

SWAT called cell 1 and 3 “unresponsive.” Could be hanging from the sprinkler. Cells 2 and 4 aren’t going through with it. Negotiator didn’t work. Just sprayed a grip of pepper spray…Cops are scared to go in! They sprayed each cell five or six times then they both cuffed up. Both alive. It’s over for today–or not. [Read more...]

Filed Under: psychological effects, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, Utah, Voices from Solitary Tagged With: , , ,

A Day in the Life of Three Prisoners in Solitary Confinement

June 29, 2012 By 2 Comments

Below are glimpses into the daily lives of three inmates held in isolation. Each has been in isolation for at least five years. Their reasons for being held in solitary vary–one was validated for gang membership, another for an escape attempt, and another for assaults on correctional officers. Their reasons for incarceration vary, from attempted murder to drug law violations. There are some commonalities in their experiences: none of them have reported meaningful programming opportunities and there is a crippling monotony to their lives. All have reported feelings of frustration–both as an emotional response to their circumstances, but also due to the absence of foreseeable release from isolation.

California

Inmate M. has been in the Pelican Bay SHU for five years, a validated Hispanic gang member. He describes his cell as roughly 8 x 12; in his cell are a concrete bed, stainless steel toilet and sink, desk, small stool and a thirteen-inch television. He wakes up at 5 AM, exercises, and takes a “bird bath” from his sink. Breakfast and lunch bags arrive around 7:30 AM. After eating, he spends three hours reading, writing, and worrying.

At some point in the day, he is allowed 60-90 minutes on the yard. He describes the yard as a “concrete box, with a mesh ceiling that allows us to see the sky and get fresh air.”

Depending on how much yard time he gets, he usually spends the next few hours watching television, especially sports. Like many on his unit, he enjoys watching “General Hospital.” He then naps.

Mail is delivered at 4:00 PM, dinner at 5:00 PM. He eats dinner and watches television before going to sleep at 10:00 PM. This is what he’s done for five years, every day.

Utah

Inmate B. has been in isolation for 5 years, in Utah State Prison, Draper’s Uinta 1 facility. He doesn’t leave his cell to shower or exercise due to the procedures that entail putting a bag over an inmates head, handcuffing and tethering between transports.

“We get a styrofoam dinner, which is warm, but two cold meals of bologna (4 pieces), carrots, celery, bread (4 pieces), two cheese slices and one orange with two fruit bars. I wish I could send you a packet of bologna we’re fed for breakfast and lunch. A guard once stated: ‘This shit could withstand a nuclear holocaust.’”

“I can’t train as much cause my liver really goes through hell. It takes three hours to do it. One hour legs, one hour pushups/burpies, one hour curls/shrugs. But I don’t take medication. The prison won’t treat my Hepatitis-C because they say it’s not bad enough yet! I have to be almost dead before they’ll begin the interferon. My training helps my liver, at least I keep telling myself that. I get real hot, cold. I hve to drink cold water some weeks and hot others. My eyes are always bloodshot and are sunken in. I’m dying that’s the long and short of it.”

“I wake up at lunch 11:00 AM. Eat a white sack and then read or write/sweep floor/clean/bird bath in sink until 4:30PM dinner/styro, eat that. On Fridays and Tuesdays I workout or do crunches at that time too. Then pace from 4:30 to 8:30 or 10:30. I read and write at desk and pace. Each a little. Then second white sack at 8:30 PM. Go to sleep around 3 or 4 AM.

“It sounds…bad doesn’t it?  And it would be without me doing my heavy workout and having all the dreams I could possibly want to come to me when I sleep. I think because the days are so bland my dreams are more vivid.”

Oregon

Inmate G., an Oregon IMU inmate currently held in Texas, described his experience at the Snake River Intensive Management Unit in Ontario, Oregon.

“The cells are sealed off pretty much completely, even the doors shut and have a side-bar type thing that fits along the deal. You’ve got to yell to be heard, which is often more of a headache than it’s worth. There’s four large windows at the front of the cells, but you can only see the depressing view of the tiers, and the guard tower. Snake River IMU has always been the most isolated and depressing of the two [OSP being the other].”

“The cell is eight by twelve. A bunk running along the side wall, where the toilet and sink combo is behind the bunk. A table is attached to the other wall, with a small corresponding stool. That’s one of the only good things about IMU in Ontario, the large and spacious cells. But it’s so much more socially isolated and depressing.”

“SRCI’s IMU is so damn bright, with the powerful florescent lights. Even the ‘night lights’ they keep on 24/7 are similar to an average light! There’s many things that combine that place into being miserable.”

With regards to recreation yards: “In Ontario, you’ve got two. One outside and one inside. And they rotate the days, so you don’t go outside everyday. The inside one is merely a large empty cell pretty much…about ten by fifteen. And there’s a dip bar and pull up bar. The outside rec yards there are probably ten by thirty, with a basketball hoop and ball out there.”

“I’ve always liked to read, fiction and nonfiction, and I try to keep active with a workout, although sometimes it’s incredibly easy to get lazy. I love music, so having a radio has been my escape. I write, although not as often as I used to. There’s not much you can do, but I try to keep busy nevertheless.”

Filed Under: California, Oregon, physical effects, psychological effects, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, Utah Tagged With: , , , ,

Voices from Solitary: From the Vortex of Uinta One

June 14, 2012 By 6 Comments

The following comes to Solitary Watch from inmate Brandon Green at Utah State Prison, Draper’s Uinta One facility. The facility currently holds 91 inmates in solitary confinement, including the state’s death row. Green has been in isolation for five years, after a brief period released from prison before being rearrested.  He has been corresponding with Solitary Watch since February, and has been a prolific writer, chronicling his harrowing experience in isolation. He has described his situation, and the challenge of expressing his situation, this way: “I told my cousin that it’s like he and everyone out on the street is building a life, a “house,” while we sit holding up the roof to our past “houses” as it slowly just crumbles. How does one who is busy building understand how it is to just sit and hold up a roof? They can’t.” The following is a sampling of his writings. –Sal Rodriguez

Where to begin? How to begin? One fellow captive described Uinta One as a vortex. It just keeps sucking you in. My first experience of solitary was in 2004. I was around 21 years of age. I was put in a shower in handcuffs as they searched my cell and I slipped handcuffs from behind my back to the front, then was unable to put them back when ordered to. Thus solitary. My first taste.

I remember crying a lot at first. At night mostly, as the night crept up on me. My neighbors would want my cookies from my white sacks. And they offered all these colorful pills. “Green to sleep, red to wake up,” they’d say. So I fished off my cookies under my door to my neighbor so I could sleep instead of cry.

I remember paroling in 2006 after I’d done two stints in solitary. My mom picked me up and just to hear the music on the radio gave me cold chills. Being so long without music. Mom took me to a restaurant and we sat down to eat. I got nervous because of all the people, hopped up, went to the car and waited for her as I listened to music. I sat paranoid looking in the mirrors at all these people coming and going from their cars to stores and back. I felt like…like a bad guy. Outlaw. That no one will know what it was like to sit alone for so long with just my thoughts.

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t imagining my moms “just cried out face” as she hopped back in the car and drove us home. “How could he,” she probably thought “after all that time. Does he hate me?”

“How could she,” I thought, “after years of eating all alone, how could she not know I’d be nervous.” Neither understanding. Both blaming the other while feeling guilty ourselves.

It’s been almost five years since we’ve spoken.

I sit going on five years straight in the hole. A sound of buzzing comes from my exhaust vent because I place a piece of paper there to create sound. My door is plugged off, with white sacks, except for a small place at the bottom to allow air and mail. I go through these periods of extreme abdominal pains, blood shot eyes, dizziness because of my Hepatitis-C. I’ve not shaved or had a haircut for almost five years. I do not leave my cell unless guards do a search or I get blood tests for my disease.

My knee is pulled because of overexercise and pacing. To pace, then turn, then pace, then turn, really screws up the knees after a while.

We have these sandbags surrounding our doors so we cannot fish. Bugs get trapped under these and set up little colonies and infiltrate our cells. Most of these toilets do not flush correctly and most cell toilets stink with green moss inside the bowls. Most air vents are clogged and one can taste the city exhaust smoke as one chews ones carrots.

Just this week, a captive was antagonized by a guard. The captive requested mental health. Was laughed at (at his door and over the cell electronic speaker). He snapped, took all his “fish oil” medications, pulled his cell sprinkler then proceeded to swallow the metal sprinkler. He’s been gone days. Probably in section four–suicide watch.

Section one is death row. Sections two and three are general hole, intensive management unit. Section four is suicide watch with an officer in section 24/7 with 15 minute checks. All other sections have hourly checks. Uinta One tortures 96 people in all. 8 sections of 12 a piece. We cannot see out our doors into the sections because of a metal window flap that is clipped on. Month back someone swallowed a window clip.

Some captives have been known to stuff shampoo bottles up their ass. Shove staples in their penis. Head butt the walls. Bite holes in their wrists with their teeth. Cut out veins with fingernails–I’m guilty of that one.

No phone calls since April 2008. No radio, T.V., magazines, visits, sunshine. Here in Uinta One we are handcuffed behind the back, dogleashed, pillow-case over the head, shackled, taken to and from shower every Tues, Thurs, Saturday. It’s degrading.

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Filed Under: mental illness, psychological effects, solitary confinement, supermax prisons, torture, Utah, Voices from Solitary Tagged With: , , , ,
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